


Dust In, Dust Out

by Ilyen



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alphyne, Because of Reasons, Buckle up, F/M, Mafia AU, Mob AU, Mobster AU, Mute Frisk, Soriel, Underboss au, also there's swearing, but we're starting off nice and calm so no need for warning yet, but yeah this is gonna be mostly soriel, gangster au, i havent written fic in a million years, i like this au a lot so here's my self indulgent fic, not really sure how big of a role mtt is gonna have so that's why it's a maybe, papyton too at some point most likely, sign-language frisk, this is based off of Renrink's soriel mobster au, ut underboss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilyen/pseuds/Ilyen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toriel is one of the former heads of the Underground's largest crime syndicate. She had left that world years ago, wanting nothing more to do with the growing list of crimes that were par for the course in Asgore's gang.  Things had been quiet since then, but when another human child stumbles into her life, she finds old habits die hard. </p><p>Sans was a high ranking member of Asgore's inner circle-but a recent crime gone wrong has left him questioning what he's doing with his life.  Unfortunately for him, he doesn't have the luxury to introspect at the moment. The boss's ex-wife has a human with her, and the Boss says that's a problem. </p><p>Nothing is ever easy when you work for the Mob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dewdropper

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily inspired from http://renrink.tumblr.com/ soriel underboss au. And I guess 1920's gangsters are like, my aesthic, or something, because I can't stop thinking about it. This is the first fic I've posted since my fma days. Apologies if it's rough around the edges. 
> 
> Shout out to Dafnier/Super Daf for proof reading, they're awesome!!
> 
> Some definitions:  
> Consigliere: Cheif advisor to the family Boss  
> Capo: AKA Caporegime, is the captain or lieutenant of a division within the Mafia  
> Dewdropper: A young man who sleeps all day and doesn't have a job

  
     It started with a bang. Loud, repeated thumping startled him from his uneasy sleep, his eyes coming alight as he thrashed to a sitting position with a half-formed gasp in his throat. The realization that it was just his room set in and he sank back down into his bed, his arm over his eyes, regretting everything about being awake. There was someone knocking loudly at the door of the small apartment he shared with his brother, and Paps must be out; otherwise he would have answered it.

     It had to be at least mid-morning, judging from the piercing sunbeam filtering through the holes in his window shade. The ever present sound of traffic and crowds from the street below was relatively mellow at the moment, lacking the urgency of rush hour. He fished his pillow from the floor, burying his face as he rolled over into his sheets, hoping he could fall back to sleep. Whoever was at beating on the front door would have to give up eventually, and he sure as hell wasn't going to get out of bed to answer it. His shifted the pillow so it blocked some of the sound, trying not to grind his teeth as he waited for them to go away.

     He probably should be more concerned about this situation. There had been a time where he would have been on his feet in an instant, magic at the ready and weapon in hand. There had been a time when he would have known exactly who was going to come looking for him and his associates. When he took pride in his set of skills. When he felt satisfaction from a job well done. When he would have been hoping for a fight, because he had been young and cocky, when he knew that he had the backing of the underground's largest crime syndicate.

      ...There had been a time when he cared. And now, he couldn't even get out of bed.

      Maybe someone finally put a hit on him. That would be pretty funny. He hadn't done anything remotely resembling criminal activity in months. If they finally sent someone to dust him now--He grinned to himself, imagining the headlines.  
  
     "NOTORIOUS UNDERBOSS KILLED UNDERCOVERS: MOBSTER STUCK DOWN SLEEPING"

     or maybe

     "ASLEEP AT THE MOB"

     or even

     "HE HAD A BED TIME."

  
     Maybe he should go get a job at the papers. Write bad pun headlines all day. Surely they'd hire someone who's resume includes "Good at robbing people, through extortion, gambling, and racketeering. Best safecracker this side of the Underground. Knows how to handle self in fights. Will even kill for money."  They'd probably hire him out of fear.

     The jerk was still relentlessly beating on his front door. It had to have been several minutes by now. They had to know he wasn't gonna let them in. One of his neighbors would probably flag down the cops if this kept up. For fuck's sake..what kind of ass would just bang on a door for this lon-

     "YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO LEMME IN OR I'M PUNCHING IT DOWN."

     Oh. _Undyne_. Pap's favorite person, Dr, Alphys's lover, and Asgore's trusted consigliere.

      They didn't get along.

      She started hitting the door again, and he swore he could hear the framing creak. There was no doubt she would follow through with her threat. He sighed and sat up.

     "I'm awake, but gimme a sec. I'm bare bones here." She must have heard him, as she relented momentarily.

      He had actually fallen asleep fully dressed, or what he was considering fully dressed as of late. He definitely wasn't sure when the last time he changed was. His shirt was an interesting mix of stains, the suit-jacket he had last worn days ago was crumpled on the floor, his pants tattering at the ankles. His remaining clothes were scattered about his room, and he vaguely remembered Papyrus telling him to hang everything up or he'd ruin them, and suits were expensive so he really should take care of it. He swung his feet over the edge and stood. There was nothing much cleaner than what he had on already, so he settled for grabbing his house robe He had just woken up, after all, to hell if it was the middle of the day. At least his slippers were relatively intact.

      Finally standing, he made his way to the combined living room-kitchen area, a mere few steps down what was really too short to be considered a hallway. He could actually here Undyne's impatient mumbling through the thin walls. Resigning himself, he unlocked the door and swung it inwards. Undyne crossed her arms, eyeing him up and down.

      "Took you long enough." She raised an eyebrow. "You look like shit."

     "Nice to see you too." He met her one good eye. "What do you want?"

      She glanced down briefly, busying herself with brushing off her suit. It looked new. "We have a job for you."

     He almost managed to slam the door in her face, but she must have been expecting his reaction and shoved both her foot and arm through the threshold.

     "Oh no, not today you asshole." She hissed, shoving her weight against the door. Sans could hold his own when it came down to casting, and was absolutely deadly with a gun, but Undyne far outstripped him when it came to physical strength, and he didn't actually want to give her a real reason to be mad at him. He stepped back, letting go and she ungracefully stumbled the rest of the way into the dimly lit apartment. He settled for turning his back on her instead.  
  
     "I'm not interested."

     "Figured you would say that." She turned and lowered herself onto the couch, resting her feet on their battered coffee table. He heard her shifting around, trying to find a spot on the couch that wasn't filled with busted springs or burnt holes from his occasional cigar. "You don't seem interested in anything we ask you anymore."

     He shrugged, looking at her over his shoulder. "Sorry, guess I can't stomach it anymore."

     She glared at him again, fins flared, but surprisingly she said nothing. It seemed as if she was actually trying to pick her words carefully, instead of just shouting at him. That was new.

     After a moment, she sighed."You know, Papyrus won't hear a bad thing against you, and Alphys defends you till she's blue in the face. But there's nothing to show for it, and frankly, there's been questions about how loyal you really are."

     Of course that's where she was going with this. Even Papyrus had been bringing it up lately, and he was the most sheltered member of their‘family,' as almost everyone considered him their little brother. Fuck all of them.

     "I'm not going to rat, Undyne. I'm in way too deep for that."  
   
     "No, but you're not exactly helping either. Asgore has been very kind in letting you get a pass for this nothing you've been doing, but it can't continue. You're one of the best capo's we have."

     He bit back a laugh, turning to face her fully. "If Asgore doesn't care, then why do you?"

     "Because my job is to make sure Asgore stays in charge of this family." A small knife seemed to appear in her hands, quicker than he could follow, and she idly spun it around her fingertips. "It makes us look weak to have slackers and leeches under our care. We give you safety. We take care of you and your brother. And what do you give back?" She stabbed the knife downward, into the table. "You're a friggin dewdropper. At least Papyrus gives a shit."

     "Was that really necessary? I get the _point_." He grinned wider, just for a moment, "But let's _cut_ to the heart this visit. You want something from me, and I'm going to tell you no."

     "You don't even know what the job is."

     "I can take a _stab_ at it. The only reason you would waste time with me is no one else is no one else wants to get their hands dirty."

     Undyne pulled her legs off the table and sat upright. "That's not it. It's about a human. And it's Toriel who took it in."  
  
     The name was familiar, but he couldn't place why. "Not ringing any bells."

     She raised an eyebrow incredulously. "The boss's ex-wife?"

     He shoved his hands in the pockets of his house robe, shrugging."Eh. Before my time."  
  
     Undyne rolled her eye at him and yanked her knife out of their table, going back to spinning in around her fingers. "She has a habit of taking in strays. Hasn't happened in a couple of years, but there's a human kid with her now. We want the kid. Asgore's gonna ransom it back to the humans. Easy money."

     "Still not interested."

     "You sure?"

     He returned her glare. Sighing, she raised her hands placatingly. "Ok, alright. I get it. I'll find someone else. You can keep doing whatever it is you're doing." She rose to her feet, turning to the door. "Y'know, maybe Papyrus is ready to take on a real big job. I should give him a shot."

      It was a low blow, and they both knew it. Undyne treated Papyrus better than he did, but still...

     "Don't you fucking dare." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Do it yourself."

      Undyne grinned over her shoulder. "Trust me, I would in a second. But Toriel knows me. Well enough that she would recognize my face."

     "That's never stopped you before."

      "Toriel's the ex-head of the family. She knows how this works. She knows we're after the kid. I'm brash and I would have a hard time getting a jump oh her. It has to be someone newer, and there are only a few people I think could even handle this." She turned back to face him. "And there are fewer people who I think have a chance of both completing the job and getting out in one piece."

     He bit back a comment about her smelling like sushi. She couldn't really be thinking of asking Papyrus to kidnap a kid, could she?

    She sensed his reluctance, and leaned in close. "Unless you'd rather I ask your brother?"

 


	2. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Toriel been up to all these years? 
> 
> Also, Sans, man, ya dun goofed. Don't mess with the goat mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to nail down as it's kinda mostly info dumping regarding how Tori's been living all this time, and I still feel incredibly rusty at writing.  
> It's gonna be more action packed mafia stuff after this, promise.  
> Humongous thanks to Dafnier for beta'ing this, you were immensely helpful! I'm overly reliant on commas and dashes and that tends to lead to horrendous run-on sentences. Having someone to slog through it all and help me catch that is a godsend. 
> 
> ~~enjoy!

  
     Toriel took a deep breath, doing her best to calm her nerves. Frisk was happily coloring in the little notepad Gerson had given them, and she'd been attempting to bake. She sighed again, staring dejectedly at the dough laying on the counter. It was simply to stringy - she had overworked it. If she used it for a pie now, it would be tough and chewy instead of flakey. She picked it up again and could feel the dough oozing through her fingers. Definitely ruined. She tossed it into her waste bin, giving up for now.

     First thing that morning, she'd made a rare trip to the market, intending to find something special to cook for Frisk. Usually, she found the hustle and bustle of downtown Ebott relaxing, feeling like she could just blend into a crowd of normal monsters. No one would have a reason to think she was anything other that she appeared. Just a kindly Sister. Like she was clean, with no blood on her hands.

     Today, though, something was different. Old instincts long ignored had her jumping at shadows. The whole morning was spent looking over her shoulder, and she _knew_ she was being followed. It was a very unwelcome reminder.  It made her regret leaving Frisk alone, even if she had been explicitly clear to them that they should not leave her cottage. She carried no weapons, and hadn't in years, but she found herself judging every monster who came within eyeshot, and reaching for a holstered pistol that wasn't there. Nevermind her magic; she was sure everyone who came close could feel her fire thrumming readily, reacting to her nerves.

     The trip was a lost cause for her when she had accidently backed into a short skeleton monster, and almost set him on fire. He was familiar, and after a moment, she  placed him as one of the attendees to Gerson's sermons. Her apology was rushed, and she didn't stay to hear his reply as she turned and fled. She did catch the openly shocked expression that crossed his face, but it's not every day a nun from your Church almost crisps you for bumping into her.

    She'd practically run all the way back to her home on the grounds of the Ruin, flinging open the door to the cottage and swooping Frisk up in a hug. The child had given her a questioning look even as they returned her gesture, but she brushed them off. They were safe, and that's all that mattered.

     Now, Toriel sat at her kitchen table, trying to sort out her scattered thoughts. Frisk stopped coloring to gesture at her. That was part of the reason for the notebook- Frisk didn't talk, instead using their hands to communicate. It'd taken most of the month for her to learn the basis of sign, with Frisk using the notebook to write whenever Toriel failed to understand. Luckily, she was a quick study, and currently at the point where she could understand most of what Frisk was saying through the gestures alone.

     Frisk was asking her if she was ok.

     Warmth bloomed in her chest, and she smiled. Frisk was incredibly kind and she loved them for it. Despite whatever hardships this poor child faced, they still cared about those around them. It was shocking to her that no one had come looking for them in the weeks she'd been sheltering them. But…. she supposed adult humans went missing relatively frequently, especially on the tenuous border between the two factions. She had been responsible for a few herself, back before, and she knew no had cared about them, but a child….a child was different. A child was innocent. Who could just let them go missing?

     In the first few days after she found them, she had asked if they wanted to go home. Frisk shook their head no. She tried to get them to tell her what their life was like on the other side, but Frisk refused to answer. She told them that she would bring them back- and Frisk had started to cry. It was enough to change her mind completely, and she had let Frisk stay with her, in her little cottage on the grounds on the monster Church. She knew it was foolish, but she had hoped that Asgore would let her alone, just this once.

    It would have been nice. She always knew that Asgore's henchmen were at the very least keeping tabs on her, but she had lived so peacefully for so long that she'd almost been able to ignore that ugly little facet of her old life.

     Frisk was safe now; but how much longer could Toriel guarantee their protection? She couldn't even take them shopping with her. How could she intend to keep them here for the rest of their life?

    She had been so _stupid_ to think she could make this work. And, despite all of her pretending otherwise, she was marked. 

    "Frisk…" Her voice was rough. "My child, I have to bring you home."

     Their eyes went wide, and they vehemently shook their head.

     She felt tears gather in her eyes, and quickly wiped her paw across her face."It's not safe here. I've been very selfish to keep you here as long as I have-"

    Frisk glared, gritting their teeth. They signed frantically, almost too fast for Toriel to read: _safe, happy, why, why, why?_

     A lump formed in her throat. "Child, _please_ , this isn't easy for me either. But you have to understand, it is very, very dangerous for you here." She placed her large paws over Frisk's now trembling hands. They needed to understand. They would just get hurt if they stayed. That's what always happened.

    "I'm -I'm not a good monster. But I want to help you. And the best way to do that is for you to go back to where you belong. Not all monsters are as forgiving as Gerson and I am...I don't know how much longer I can protect you." Frisk continued to stare at her, emotions wringing across their face. "There are monsters out there who would hurt you, just because you're a human. What kind of life is that? Do you really want to stay hidden here forever?"

     They wrenched their hands out of her grasp, their shoulder shaking. They looked at her straight on, and signed slowly but emphatically.

    _I'm not safe at home either. This is better._

     Toriel felt tears on her cheeks. "You do not understand. You could be harmed every moment you stay here. Was your old life really so much worse?"

     Frisk nodded.

     "Child…." It was only a matter of time before someone would hurt them here. At least back where they belonged, they would have a chance. "I cannot let you stay with me. Please, understand, I'm only doing this to protect you. As soon as possible, tomorrow night even, we must go to the border. I know some humans, they owe me, and they will see to it that you find your family. Please, Trust me. I'm sorry, but you'll be safer over with your own kind." She knelt down, trying to give the poor child another hug.

     Frisk drew away, turning and running for the room Toriel had given them. The slamming of the door echoed throughout the house, and Toriel was left alone, kneeling on the floor of the cottage. Trying to stifle her tears, she slowly rose to her feet. Frisk's notebook drawing caught her eye; it was the cottage, with Frisk and what could only be herself hand in hand.  
  
      She couldn't keep from crying any longer.

* * *

 

     Sans sat outside the Ruins, his skull pressed into his hands. _Fuck._

 He was waiting for the bell to chime the hour, and he knew exactly where Toriel would be when it did. It was the perfect chance to grab the kid. Easy. And yet, he still felt as if he was seconds away from losing his lunch.

     It just had to be her. Out of all the monsters in this goddamn city, and it wase her. _What were the chances?_

     Undyne knew where Toriel lived: The ex-boss lady was serving as a glorified nun at the run-down Church everyone knew as "The Ruins."  He hoped Undyne hadn't seen his grin slip when she explained that to him.

     He'd been optimistic at first, despite this Toriel being a Sister. He couldn't picture any of the nuns who were _"7 ft plus, think of Asgore but less face fuzz and more like a dame._ " Not that he'd been really looking before, but someone like that would've been pretty hard to miss. But Undyne had been absolutely sure.

     For the next two days after his reluctant meeting, he had loitered outside the gate to the Ruins. He could have gone into the building itself, but he felt that if Toriel was living there, and she was really the previous head boss, he'd make her suspicious by wandering the private section of the grounds. It wasn't stalling if there was a good reason.

     His patience had been rewarded when a monster matching that description left early this morning, dressed conservatively like any other nun, but her manner cautious. He'd spent most of the morning tailing her, wanting to get close enough to hear her voice, but dreading it the same. If he wasn't sure that a nun had mob connections before, her increasingly frantic behavior confirmed it- no regular nun would reach in her jacket like she was packing heat every time someone got to close. He could tell she was a bundle of nerves just from the way she kept whipping her head around, like she knew she was being followed. It took every bit of skill he had plus a good bit of luck, to not get spotted.

    Two hours passed, Toriel growing warier by the moment. He'd realized he there was no use in delaying any longer, and crept close as she briefly stopped to check a vendor's stall. He just wanted to hear her talk. The chances it was the Sister from the booth were slim but he needed to _know_. One step, then another, and he was close enough that he could pick her pockets if he wanted too. She'd suddenly turned, her eyes alight and he could feel her magic bristling- so he reached for his own in response-He was gonna get friggin dusted before he even saw the kid, she was a mobster's ex-wife, what was he _thinking_ sneaking up on her like this?

     And then, she smothered her fire down, her hands flying to her mouth, eyes wide.

     "Oh my! I'm not myself today-I'm sorry! I--I have to go!" And she turned and fled while he felt his world drop out from beneath his feet.

     Her voice was the same.

* * *

 

     The Ruin's bell tower chimed  and with a start, she realized that Gerson's mass was almost over. She was supposed to attended confessionals today, after his sermon. Smoothing down her fur and hoping the damp tear marks on her face weren't too obvious, she gathered herself, before shakily remembering no one would really see her anyway.

     She hurried across the grounds, using the Church's small side door that led to the short hallway. A little alcove that made up her side of the booth was here, her chair tucked against it. The hall also exited to a small service door tucked into the very back of the Church and it served double duty as seasonal storage. A singular candle and the lights that filtered underneath the doors were the only usual sources of illumination, but Toriel didn't mind the dark. Typically she would get here early enough to hear Gerson's whole sermon, often times with a book and an extra candle tucked in her paws, although today she was only in time for the very end. She pulled her chair next to the screen, quietly clearing her throat. It wouldn't do to sound upset. She was here to listen to problems, not burden those seeking solace with her own.

     Gerson never asked where she came from. He had simply opened the doors for her that late night, almost a decade ago, and let her live and work on the grounds like any of the other Sisters. She thought he knew she was running from something, and he never pushed her to help out during the mass itself. Instead, she cleaned the hall after everyone left, often in obsessive detail. She would scrub the same spots of the floor, over and over, late into the night. Till her hands were raw. She was stained, but the Church would be clean.  

     Eventually, Gerson asked her to attend confessionals, after walking in on her scraping dirt from the grout of the floor tiles in the small hours of the night.  She would be hidden from view, he explained, and all she had to do was listen. It would help her, he thought. Or she could keep trying to seek peace with the floors, but she probably wouldn't have any skin left on her fingers before she felt forgiven of whatever it was that laid so heavy on her soul. 

     Listening to confessionals had been trying at first- most of the monsters would talk about things she would've scoffed at in her heyday. A lady who talked about mean thoughts about another attendee, a man who raised his voice at his wife and was inconsolable, a boy who was jealous of his older sister. Things that were silly, and she had first thought, of no consequence. If these people had any idea who they were talking to they would be disgusted. Their sins paled in comparison to her own. But as the years wore on, she found it easier to listen, then sympathize, and then offer advice or calming words. It had been therapeutic for her as well. Gerson was right, it was cleansing in a way.

     In her mind, she kept a list of regulars; people who kept coming back time and time again, sometimes for months. Currently, there was someone who ended up crying and walking away before she could even offer advice. Another lady who drank too much, even though liquor was prohibited in Ebott. And, for the last few months, her favorite: a man who never confessed anything, but instead just told her bad jokes.

      She never saw them face to face. The booth was built directly into the back wall, a tightly knit screen in separating the occupants. The person doing the confessing would sit on the other side, after  the sermon was over. She had asked Gerson about why everyone was concealed from each other, and he had told that monsters were more inclined to be honest when they didn't feel like they were being judged. It made sense, she supposed. You could talk about what was bothering you, someone would offer a few words to help you feel better, and then you'd go on with your life.

      When she'd still been new to her duty, Toriel had peaked in through the Church's door a few times, trying to guess who was who. The pews were never full, as Gerson's masses were mostly about history or prophecy and he could be rather long winded. Even so, there were enough monsters in attendance each week that she'd quickly given up the idea of matching voices to their owners. She'd since then grown fond of the idea behind the confession booth, and finding out who was laying their soul bare at her feet lost its appeal. She still caught occasional glimpses of the monsters in attendance as she tended other errands on the grounds, but never more than a passing glance. She wanted it to stay that way. 

     Gerson brought his current sermon to a close, and she could hear the tell-tale shuffles that marked the few monsters lining up on the other side of the booth. It was normally only  her regulars, and sometimes one or two others. The seat creaked on the other side, followed by silence. Monsters new to confession were often nervous about talking first, but she waited in silence. She'd always been patient.

     They still weren't talking. Perhaps they just needed her to start the conversation.

     "Hello?" she asked, warmth coloring her voice. "I am here to listen. You can say whatever you like, it will stay just between us." She smiled at the screen, even though the person on the other side couldn't see it. Nothing. 

     "It doesn't even have to be a confession, if you want." No reply. Well, she could try a new ice breaker. "Here, I'll start. Knock knock?"

     She heard a low chuckle- one she recognized, although it was curiously strained. Instantly, she brightened. She could use a good laugh. "Oh, it's you! You're unusually quiet today?"

     "Just wanted to be sure." His voice was almost a whisper.

     Normally, he would've been the one starting with the knock-knock jokes. "Are you alright?"  She heard him shift, closer to the screen.

    "Nothing funny today. I just….." he sighed, low in his throat. "I just wanted you to know….I'm...sorry."

     That wasn't what she was expecting from him. "Excuse me?" 

     Instead of answering her, she felt a surge of magic, and even through the screen she caught a flash a blue, and a smell like after a lighting strike.

     She sat, surprised. Her mind was racing- _He was sorry? For what??_ "If this is a joke, sir, it's not a very good one!"

     Nothing from the other side. Then the creak of a seat. A sense of relief washed over her.

    "Sir, I'll have you know-"

     "Oh no, Sister, he left. Poof. Disappeared!. _-hic-_ Or, or... mebbe I've drunken too much again and I'm seeing things like--"

     The pieces clicked into place. The skeleton from the market. Being followed. Asgore's henchmen keeping tabs on her. Her rising fear from the last few days.

      "Are ya even listening to me, Lady? I've dun it again…."

_Frisk._

     She leapt from her chair and ran.

     Throwing open the door to the outside, she saw several loitering parishioners jumped back in surprise. Some called after her, but she didn't stop. One poor fellow didn't move fast enough she shoved him out of her way.

_Oh no oh no oh no._

     She crossed the grounds faster than she had ever in her life. Her cottage's door was open. _"FRISK?!"_

     The same peculiar smell lingered inside.

      "Child, _where are you?_!" 

     Frisk's room was empty. She practically threw the mattress against the wall in her haste to check under it.

      " _FRISK?_ Please come out!!" Her cottage was small, there weren't many places to hide.

      They weren't in her room. They weren't in the kitchen. They weren't _here._ Dread set in, fueled by her panic. And then, anger. Anger she hadn't felt since she first made the decision to abandon Asgore, all those years ago. Had he been simply waiting for her to finally find peace before he took revenge?

     Frisk was _gone_.

      _He took her child._

     It was what she feared. What she had known was coming. Her magic crackled in her fist. Her child was gone, but she knew who to blame.

     He wasn't going to get very far.

 

 


	3. Under Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ACTION SCENES!! Woo this is where it gets fun. I hope.
> 
> Also thanks again so much for the fantastic Dafnier for betaing this. Without them y'all would have to suffer about 800 unnecessary commas. I write like Shatner talks.

 

     The bartender stepped into the back alley, a crate of empty bottles held in his hands. His own flickering glow illuminated his path, removing the need to carry a lamp. It was a slow night at the lounge, but it was the middle of the week and no major events were happening in the vicinity. Even the bar was barren, his regulars seemingly scattered. It was going to be an early night. He’d already sent home part of his staff when there hadn’t been a dinner rush to speak of.

     Quick, heavy footfalls caught his attention, looking up in just enough time to see a flash of white close in before a hand grabbed his neck and he was slammed against his door. His glasses were knocked off his face and the crate dropped from his hands, the bottles clattering against cobblestone. He flared magic in response, but instead of fire he called to nothing. They were tamping his magic. An involuntary hiss escaped as he panicked and reached for the arm pinning him-

     “Stop. Or I’ll smother you back to the coals you were born from.”

    It had been close to ten years since he last heard her voice, but he recognized it instantly. _“Toriel?!”_  

     “Pleasure to see you again, Grillby. It’s been awhile.” She could have been enjoying drinks at the bar for how casual she sounded. He was a fire elemental, a relic from a more violent time, but she held him there and kept him from casting like it was nothing.  

     She would have had to be powerful to be Asgore's wife and the right hand of the Syndicate.  After she'd disappeared, the organization had suffered internally, and even a simple front like him knew that Asgore's hold was slipping. Toriel had been the brains of the operation.  He let his arms fall to his sides, and she nodded her approval.

     "I'm looking for someone. Short, stocky, all bones and a penchant for bad jokes. Sound like anyone you know?"

     Grillby paused a moment to study her before answering. She had come out of hiding to find Sans, and she looked frayed. The hell did he get himself into now? Admittedly, both of the brothers had a knack for trouble, even when they were young. Papyrus tended to get himself into situations that were attention grabbing, but usually easy enough to resolve. Sans, on the other hand, seemed to draw problems of a darker sort. As far as Grillby knew, he had been still recovering from the last fiasco, and now Toriel was after him? That wasn’t good.

 _“I don’t really keep track of all of Ebott’s street thugs.”_ His voice was a crackling whisper, like logs in a hearth.

     The pressure on his core suddenly increased and he could feel his flames visibly dimming. Grillby was under Asgore's protection,  but he was only involved in the very fringe on the mafia's activities.  He laundered money for them, and they used his lounge as a meeting place and sometimes cover. He was close with several key members as well, not including the brothers. Asgore had even offered him the Oath several times, but he'd always managed to turn it down. Fights had broken out under his roof, but he never before had to worry about his own life. Working with the mob always seemed to be a good business opportunity.

     He didn't think Toriel would give a rat's ass about Asgore's rules. She seemed on the edge of lashing out, her eyes red-rimmed and her snout twisted into a scowl. Still, he hesitated. Sans and Papyrus were like family to him; real family, not just associates. His core flickered in response to his agitation, Toriel could feel it.

      “You’re smart Grillby.” She peered at him, looking for a reaction. “You’ve kept your nose clean and did your best to stay on his good side. But I know you, and I’ll be damned if you didn’t know every rumor in the underground and every soul who walked through your door. Now, tell me again, “ Her eyes narrowed. “Do you know anyone who goes by that description?”

     He pretended to think. _“There’s a skeleton who sometimes comes in, kind of an ass. Haven’t seen him since before winter, though. I don’t think he’s even one of Asgore’s. ”_

     She didn’t relent, her face stone. “I’ve become very good at reading monsters, Grillby.”

     He tried to shrug his shoulders, the gesture awkward under her hold. Lying was not easy for elementals, their emotions tended to reflect visibly. Streaks of blue were wisping from his core, but he hoped she would attribute it to panic rather than him hiding the truth. He forged ahead, hoping to throw her off. _"Toriel, you've been out of the ring for too long. I don't know why you came back, but it's not what it used to be."_

     "I don't care about the family, and I don't care about Asgore. He was always weak," Venom dripped from her words. He didn't try to hide his shock. The Lady he remembered was strong, but had seemed warm and kind at the same time. This was different. She was angry and desperate, and he knew from experience that it made people do violent things.

     She continued. “Do you want to know why I left?” Hesitantly, he nodded.

     “Because he was killing children, Grillby. For some sort of statement. For revenge. Because _they_ killed Asriel and Chara. They killed our children, so his answer was to slaughter theirs. That’s the excuse he sold everyone in the family. Do you remember all the propaganda about a new home, and how the humans would finally take us seriously? But guess what?”

     Her hand constricted momentarily, and Grillby was glad he really didn’t need to breathe in the traditional sense.

    "Turns out humans don't care. Those lost children that came over here? They were homeless, or abandoned, or whatever. Humans outnumber us. A homeless child is no loss to them, it was all just for show. Pointless murders for a pointless cause. Because Asgore was too weak to really try and change things. Now I have another child under my care. The first one I've been able to save and they're gone. I know who has them and I want my child back."

     His magic was still out of reach. The old Toriel would never lay a finger on innocent bystanders. But maybe she didn't think he was innocent.

     "Stop lying to me, Grillby, and tell me what you know."

     He was a fire elemental, she was a fire mage. He couldn’t hope to win against her in a fight.

     Then he heard gunshots.

* * *

 

     Frisk crouched in the shadows of the small alley. They had a hat pulled low, and wore an oversized  coat that Toriel had given them. It didn't quite fit their small frame, but she had told them they would grow into it. They had tried to hide their face with a long scarf, leaving only their eyes showing.

     They knew it wasn’t enough to hide the fact that they were a human. They huddled close to the walls of Ebott’s tall buildings, crouching between crates and scattered trash that many of the smaller side streets were filled with. It was more crowded downtown than they had expected. They’d always thought that the monster’s parts of the city would somehow be cleaner and more jovial than the human district they were from. Aside from the assortment of staggeringly different bodies, it easily could've been just another human slum.

     They had wanted so badly to stay with Toriel.

     She said she was going to take them back to the human side. They ran as soon as Toriel had left the cottage, regret simmering in their stomach. Frisk wouldn't go back. The monsters were big and scary, and Toriel had said that some would want to hurt them. What Toriel didn't seem to understand was that humans were like that too.  Some were worse. So maybe they could find another nice monster like her. A monster that would let them stay.

     The sound of approaching footsteps made them duck behind an overturned trash can, a slight rattle betraying their presence.

     “HELLO?” Whoever it was practically shouted, and Frisk tried to make themselves even smaller. Maybe if they held still they would go away.

    “SANS? Is that you?” They came closer. “You don’t have to hide from me, I’m not angry. Although it is rude of you to leave for two days without saying a word. Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

     The footstep’s owner sighed. “If you're not my wayward brother, can you at least say something? If you need help you can just let the Great Papyrus know and I’ll do my best. If you don’t, well, I’m trying to find my brother. Sans. Perhaps you can help me?”

     Frisk cautiously peeked out, still mostly hidden by the trash can. A tall, thin monster, lit from behind by the street lamp, was peering at their hiding spot from a few feet away, his head cocked to the side. His features were obscured by shadow, a hat perched on his head.

     "Are you alright?" Frisk could hear his teeth click together as he talked. His voice carried, and the words were clipped. Frisk nodded. He seemed friendly, but that didn't mean much. "Good! Then maybe you can help me. Do you know where The Ruined Church is? Someone told me Sans likes to spend time there, but I'm afraid I've become quite lost trying to find it. This place is like a maze! Usually I like mazes, but I'm in a hurry right now."

      Frisk pointed, vaguely in the direction from which they had come. They had gotten a bit turned around themselves, the streets were crowded and narrow, and tall buildings obscured much of their view, but they always had a pretty decent sense of direction.

     The monster, Papyrus, turned to look. As his face turned to the light, Frisk realized that he was, in fact, a skeleton.

     “Hrm. Maybe you can show me?” Frisk shook their head no.

     “Well, I thank you for your help at least. Are you sure you’re alright?” He took a few steps closer, trying to get a better look. Frisk saw him pause.

     “ARE YOU A HUMAN?!”

 

* * *

 

 

     She reacted to the sound before she saw him, and tossed the elemental to the side. He had been straining for his magic the entire time she held him, and it had taken a considerable amount of will to overpower him. She threw herself backward, cursing the fact that she wasn't quite as lithe as she used to be. She saw the bullets thud into the brick of the building across the way, little spurts of dust marking the holes.

     A flash of blue came from the building's door, and she braced herself, flames wreathing her hands. _He_ was here. Another blue flash from behind her, the smell of ozone accompanying the skill.  The elemental found his feet as well, and she had to divert the wall of fire that came towards her, shoving it to either side. She pressed her back against the far wall and prepared to cast, but suddenly her soul felt heavy and her knees began to buckle. Her magic was out of reach. She grit her teeth and forced herself to stand,  turning her head to meet his gaze. He was powerful if he could stop her mid-spell.

     He still held his pistol, his left eye flaring blue. A grin stretched across his face.

 _“What the hell did you do?”_ Grillby addressed the skeleton. _“Do you have any idea who this is?”_

     The skeleton shrugged, still watching her. “Toriel, isn’t it?”

     “I want my child back.” The words came from behind clenched teeth. There was no way he could hold her forever.  She was a strong caster herself, one of the best in the business.

     His eyes seemed to narrow. “Lady, I don’t know if you’ve been living alone too long, but a human ain’t no kid of yours.”  

     She tried to take a step towards him, and his free hand came out of his pocket, also glowing blue. The pressure stayed.

     “I don’t really want to hurt you, Toriel. I was rather fond of our chats.” He wiped at his brow with the back of his hand holding the pistol. “But you really can’t come after all my buddies here, whatever your problems with me are.”

    She didn’t reply. He was sweating. He was getting weaker. She glanced downward, watching her hand, willing her magic to manifest.

     “Plus, you have the wrong bonehead here. I didn’t take your kid.”

     Her head snapped up and she studied his face. That shrug again. "Never even saw them. Blame me if you want.  I don't know where they are." He laughed, a self-deprecating chuckle."Wish I did though, it would make my life a hell of a lot easier when I have to tell my boss how I fucked this one up.

     “You’re lying.”   

     He stepped closer, enough so she could really see his face while remaining still out of range.  The elemental shifted, for a moment looking like he was going to stand between them both, but held back. They ignored him.

     She could see the skeleton’s features clearly now, and he seemed exhausted. It looked as if he had dark circles under his eye sockets, and sweat-or something else-was beading on his forehead. He met her gaze directly.

     “Toriel. They were gone before I got there.”  His words seemed to ring true. She suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with blue magic.

     If he didn't have Frisk, then _where_ did they go?  Did they run away? Was this _her fault_? Had it always been her fault? Or was he lying? He had to be lying. It didn’t make sense any other way. They wouldn’t run off because of what she had said, that would be suicide. Would they?

     An image of Frisk, tears in their eyes and shaking their head no came to mind. Was he really telling the truth?

     He was talking to her again.

     “-let you go, but if you come after my friends again, you’re going to have a bad time. Sound fair to you?”

     She stared blankly. _Let her go?_

     Grillby was flickering in agitation, shaking his head at the skeleton.

     He sighed in response. "Look, Grillby, Und--the, uh,  Consigliere made it pretty clear that Toriel is off limits."

     Of course. It wasn’t mercy, it was the rules.

_“She’ll come back.”_

     "Not if she realizes I'm telling the truth." He looked at her, still trapped by blue magic. "And I am. Your kid’s probably lost in the city by now or with some other monster."

     “Why shouldn’t I just dust you anyway?” She had run an empire before this, and killed before too. Grillby was fearful of her. The skeleton should be too. He had to be lying.

     “I figure someone who pretends to be a nun is probably sick of killing for no reason. And I was just another dumb schmuck who needed a job and got wrapped up with the wrong people. And you might still have a chance to find your kid if you scour the city or something.”

     “If you’re telling the truth. And that’s a big if.” She tried to cast again. His eye flickered in response.

     “Toriel. You want to go after Asgore himself, am I right? That face you’re making right there, it’s the face of someone who wants revenge. It doesn’t suit you.”

     “What I want is my child back.”

     "You could go after your ex-husband, but you didn't kill him years ago when you probably had a better chance than anybody. How could you now? He's still got the best bodyguards in all of the underground.  Even I've only met him face to face _once_ , and I was a big shot. How in the world would you even get close?” He holstered his pistol, and again wiped his brow. “Or, you could take this little hope I'm giving you. I don’t have your kid. I don’t know if anyone does. You seemed pretty upset before Gerson’s mass-maybe you guys had a fight. So you can go home, right now, and start looking. I’m gonna get my ass kicked by my bosses, so you have that satisfaction, and they’ll probably want me to either forget it or fix it. So go home, and look for your kid before I have to.”

     Her anger was fizzling, but she still didn’t want to believe a word out of his mouth. He was a _liar_ . He had to be. She hated him.“If you let me go, I will _dust_ you where you _stand_.”  

     "Ok then. So, Grillby. If I'm not back in a minute then I'm probably dead. You can tell the consigliere that they should have used someone with a bit more skull for the job."

     Grillby crossed his arms. _“This is a stupid move.”_

     "Eh, we'll see."  He stepped close, his hand touching her arm, a flash of blue. She felt the world shift around them. A heartbeat later and they were inside. She recognized her cottage. It was dark, she hadn't been home to light any lamps. It was disorienting, but she had felt the pressure from her soul lift just enough and she grabbed blindly where he had just been. Her paw closed on his arm, hard enough she that she could hear the bones crunch against each other. His eye flared blue again and gravity once again tried to pull her down. She didn’t let go.

     “Figured this would happen.” There was no hint of pain in his voice, nor did he make any move to pull his arm away. “Look, I promise you, with all that is of any worth in me, that I did not take your kid.”

     “I refuse to believe that. You just want me to back off.” Liar. She squeezed harder. 

     “There’s a note. It was on the table.”

     Despite herself she turned to look, her grip loosened, only a fraction. That was all he needed, and with a telltale ping! she was flying through the air. She hit her table with a crash, and it broke under her weight, the air leaving her lungs.  The flash of blue and the all too familiar smell filled the house again, and he was gone, along with his magic.

     He was dead if she ever saw him again. It took a moment for her to regain her breath, and she struggled to her feet, biting back a groan. That had hurt.  

    She called fire to her hand. Her table was destroyed, and she had knocked two of her chairs aside.  The vase that had been her centerpiece was broken as well. Pieces strewn across the floor, the flowers crushed and water was pooling around a piece of paper- it had been probably tucked under the vase. She didn’t see Frisk’s notebook.  

     Toriel picked it up, one handed. It was the drawing that Frisk had made that afternoon, now half soaked.

     Added to the bottom was a new message.

_Please forgive me. I’m sorry. I love you._

_\- Frisk._

 

 

  



	4. Ossified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now with edits!  
> thanks again to Dafnier, #1 comma remover!

      “I think she broke my fucking arm.”

    The blue light of his teleportation was fading away, and Grillby’s exasperated hissing sigh was the first thing he heard upon flashing back to the alley. Holy shit, he was tired.

 _“You’re lucky you’re in one piece!”_ The bartender paused to pick his glasses up from the ground, then turned to fix him with a glare. _“What the hell did you get yourself into?”_

     Sans answered with a shrug, wincing in pain. “Did I tell you Undyne threatened me with a job? Seems she felt like I was free-loading.” He stood a little straighter, surveying the alley. Scorch marks marred the brick wall, and broken glass bottles reflected Grillby’s light. “Hell of a night, huh?”

      _“I haven’t seen Toriel in a decade and she tried to strangle me, so yes. Hell of a night.”_ Grillby stepped close, peering at his injured limb. _“It’s not actually broken, is it?”_

     He flexed his hand, then shook his head. "Nah, but she sure tried real hard." His wrist was now mottled with fine cracks and an almost bluish busing, more apparent on the inside where Toriel's paw had ground the bones together. Just a little bit more force and she probably would have snapped it. "Fucking ow."

     Another long sigh. _“I have only seen Toriel that angry once before. Here, come on inside. I can call your brother to come get you, you’re drained.”_

     "No, don't bother Papyrus, he's probably already pissed off I haven't talked to him in two days. I can walk." He waved off Grillby's helping hand, trying not to let his exhaustion show as he made his way up the steps to the back door. "I will grab a drink, though, if you don't mind." He had been using a lot of magic recently. Today alone he'd used more shortcuts than he had in months, and he was paying for it. His knees were shaking.

 _“He went looking for you earlier, you know.”_ Grillby followed him inside, shutting the door behind them. _“You worry him.”_

      A pang of guilt shot through his chest as he threaded his through the kitchen. He just wanted to sit down, maybe get a little drunk and then head home. Undyne was going to hear about it all sooner or later, and he would rather be less than coherent when meeting with her.  Everything about this job had gone wrong, and all of it was because of his long chain of stupid decisions. Why the fuck did she think he would be able to handle this? More importantly, why had she insisted on him taking this job? She probably wanted him to fail. Finish what she started.

     With a sigh, he sank into his usual seat at the very end of the bar. The restaurant had been mostly empty when he had arrived, only moments behind Toriel, and the remaining patrons seemed to have cleared out during the fight in the back alley. He buried his head in his hands. The start of a headache was pounding behind his left eye. Way too much magic. He heard Grillby make his way to the front and lock the door, a tap against the glass as he switched the sign to ‘closed.’ A few more minutes and then a drink was set down at his elbow, and Grillby politely cleared his throat.

_“I was under the impression you were laying low. Ticking off Toriel is about as far from that as I could possibly imagine.”_

     Whiskey on the rocks. Good. “Wasn’t my idea. Undyne said Asgore wanted the kid she has. Some human. Didn’t know the history there. She was hiding as a nun of all things.”

     Grillby tilted his head to the side, his equivalent of an eyebrow arch. _"Kidnapping seems a little low brow for you to be honest."_

    "Undyne was insistent. So I went and followed the mark, who you know is Asgore's ex-wife. I didn't know her, but I know her." He didn't want to explain that. Fucking knock knock jokes. He'd been telling his boss's ex-wife knock knock jokes for months, and then he was supposed to take her kid. It was honestly hysterical. He took a deep swig of his drink and felt a laugh rise up in his throat. "Grillby, I apologized to her. Do you know how stupid that is?"

     Grillby just shook his head and waited for him to continue.

     He rubbed his temple, trying to work the ache out of his skull. Everything he did was a mistake. "I went to grab the kid, but they were gone. At first, I thought she figured it out and hid them already. Watched her all evening as she went and hit up all of her contacts. Guess she was looking for me. Now, I don't have the kid and neither does she. I was hoping she was playing a con, but after seeing her face- they must of ran away, they had a fight earlier in the day.  Now I'm gonna have to explain to Undyne that I managed to both tip Toriel off and lose the kid. Except I don't care. Undyne can fuck off."

_“If you are sure the child ran away, why don’t you comb the city?”_

     “I don’t have a crew anymore, so the chances of me finding a lost kid before one of ours or some other gang does is low. It’d be a waste of time. Besides, I guarantee Toriel will be looking for me.  Basically, I’m screwed six ways to Sunday.” He swallowed the last of the whiskey. “But I’m pretty sure Undyne won’t dust me yet. Since Gaster bit it  and I was laid up she’s been in Asgore’s ear, but I’ve been assured that someone still thinks I'm useful.”  He nodded at the glass, and Grillby poured another shot.  “Papyrus doesn’t know anything about that, though.”

     Grillby picked up a rag, and started to clean the bar, choosing his words carefully. _"He's more observant than you think Sans. When that mess went down he covered for you for weeks while we dealt with the fallout. More importantly, he still trusts Undyne, and so why don't you?"_  

     He was so tired. All the lying, all the backstabbing. Gaster and his associates  had been killed, and he knew Undyne had been behind it. She had wanted to be named Consigliere, and with himself and Gaster out of the way she had gotten it. He had never really talked about it.  Partially because his memories were disjointed, and then he wasn’t sure who he could trust.

     It was supposed to be simple. They had gone to the Core, the state of the art power plant that powered the whole city. Gaster was the Underboss as the time, and Sans the Capo under him. He remembered the feeling like he couldn't move, a signature of Undyne's green magic. Not a moment later the whole place had gone up in a massive explosion. From there he had only had bits and pieces of someone dragging him back to his apartment, and then nothing of the next few days after that. Eventually, he'd come too, but once Papyrus, reluctantly and only after much prodding, told him just how badly that heist had gone, guilt had dragged him into a new fugue. Days passed, and every hour Sans was sure Asgore was going to send someone to dust him. Despite all of that, Papyrus wouldn't leave.

      Sans hadn't even been able to walk. His brother had insisted on staying to take care of him. He had begged Paps to just go. To get out while he still could before it was too late and they were both killed. Paps just told him no, stop worrying about it. He remembered laughing hysterically at that. He was all bundled up, ripe for the picking, and Papyrus was gonna fall right along with him because he cared too much.

       He wasn't sure how much time had passed after that, but then next thing he remembered was waking to Papyrus hauling him out of bed. Asgore had come to visit them directly. Never before had he met the boss one on one. He had figured that this was it, and the only coherent thought in his head was to plead for Papyrus life, certain they were both about to be killed. San's hearing had still been shot at that point, and he had been all but blind in his right eye. So when Asgore had smiled, told him to take a seat and offered him a cup of tea, he thought he had misheard.  

      The Boss had surprised him. Told him to lay low, take it easy, then find him when he was ready for work again. Then Asgore just left. His brother had to tell him several times that he wasn’t hallucinating and the Boss really did just pay them a cordial visit. Maybe he really should take Asgore's advice and stop blaming himself.

      That had been three months ago. Since then, Unyne had been named Consigliere.  It hadn’t surprised him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized the whole fiasco had been a setup.  She was supposed to be the Capo in his place for the original heist but had switched last minute. That had been her green magic back at the job. And she had never gotten along with Gaster. The whole thing had worked out in her favor.

_"Sans?"_

      "Nevermind, Grillby." He looked up and grinned. "Since you knew her personally, how about you tell me what you know about Toriel? I have a feeling I'm gonna meet her again."

      Hours later, and sufficiently intoxicated, Sans stumbled his way back towards his apartment. True to his word, Grillby had not called Papyrus, but he had not let him off without a lecture. The bartender even cut him off, but that hadn't stopped Sans from tucking into the flask he hid inside his jacket.  Midnight had rolled around before Grillby finally kicked him out.

     Gripping the rickety wooden handrail, he slowly made his way up the stairs to his home.  For some reason, the steps were shaking.  Pausing on the landing and blinking blearily, it dawned on him that someone was stomping their way down. The footstep's owner merely a shadow on the steps above. Didn't they realize people were trying to sleep? He was still staring into the stairwell as they rounded the corner and barreled straight into him. A grunt escaped and only his death grip on the stairs stopped him from tumbling backward.

      "Fuckin watch where!!-Sans?!" Of course, it was Undyne.

      He held railing like it was the only thing keeping him on his feet. “Yeah?” It sounded slurred, even to him. “Whatdyo want?”

      "Guess Paps wasn't covering for you after all, he wouldn't even let me in your apartment. Man..." She rubbed her hand over her face. Between his drunken haze and the lack of light he couldn't really see her features, but she sounded stressed.  "There's been a change of plans. Look, I know you're probably not up to this but I can't pull you off this job. I've wasted enough time over here anyway and I've got to go-"

      His head was pounding way too much for him to try and puzzle out why she was acting so nervous. “Spitit out”

      “Orders from on high: It’s a hit. Dust ‘em both. You have two days. ”

      He laughed way too loudly. "That's funny. Yous said earlier she wasn't no hit. An' I don't kill kids."

      Her silence was deafening. “Are you drunk?”

     “Do you smell like a fish?”

      “ARGH-I don’t have time for your bullshit. You better remember this tomorrow.” She started to shove past him before turning back towards him. Her voice was a low hiss.  “And it’s not just me who’s watching your ass now.”

      He frowned as she descended down the steps. Fuck her. It took him several more minutes to make his way to his own apartment, and a few more to realize that his keys were gone. He could see a low light, probably the kitchen. Undyne had said Papyrus was home, so he knocked on the door. Trying again a bit louder after there was no answer.

      "UNDYNE, I TOLD YOU HE'S NOT HOME! I AM VERY WORRIED MYSELF BUT I AM LEAVING SHORTLY TO GO LOOK FOR HIM."

      His brother really did have a loud voice. Maybe drinking had been a bad idea. "Paps, It's me, lemme i-"

      The words weren't even out of his mouth before the door was pulled open and Papyrus dragged him inside. The movement made his head swirl and sent an ache up his arm as he turned to the couch. His movements rushed, Papyrus was already re-locking the door, although he was still admonishing him over his shoulder.

      "Sans! Where in the world have you been?! I've been worried sick but I couldn't leave after tonight! I know the job is important but it's been two days! And now Undyne wants to talk to you and I have a problem of my own and really, why couldn't you, at least, let me know where you are?! I spent all afternoon looking for you but I found something else instead, and I was going to go straight to Undyne but then I realized that ....."

      He sank into the couch, nodding along to his brother's voice. It was good to be home. He could figure this all out later. The exhaustion he had been fighting all night was overpowe him. He knew he needed the sleep. Tomorrow, he'd go talk to Asgore personally and get this all sorted out. He wouldn't want Toriel killed after all this time. This was another set up.

     "Are you even listening?! You can't sleep there! We have a guest over!"

     "What?" His eyes snapped open and he pulled himself upright.

      Papyrus pointed to the kitchen, his features pulled into a frown. "Their name is Frisk. That's why Undyne couldn't come in. I don't know what to do!"

      Standing in the doorway with a plate full of Pap's favorite dinner, was a human child.

 


End file.
